Howard Pyle

“ But this I will say: if you knew who I am, and what I am, and why I live in your ugly city of New York as I do, you would no more think of making love to me than you would to a woman in another world. Cela suffit."
"I do not care who you are or what you are!" cried Huntford, in a voice smothered with passion. "I do know that you and your uncle are hiding here in New York from the police of your own country, but I do not care for that! ”

“ Then it was that Huntford did indeed regret that he stood upon the outside of that charmed circle. For he knew that Evelina Walton was destined for marriage with great wealth, and he recognized what it was to be nothing but an artist—even though he were a successful artist.
Meantime, as his love waxed warmer and warmer, Cousin Henrietta's cordiality grew proportionately colder and colder. ”

“ The Waltons lived in a gloomy brownstone house on Fifth Avenue, and they were now within the very heart of social life. Mrs. Walton thought highly of her position.
Huntford liked her and was amused at her simple-minded snobbery.
"My dear Jack," she would say, "I wish you were something else than an artist. Everybody's talking about your picture—the painting of the old Puritan and his daughter, you know—and I would so like to introduce you into real society, but—" and she left the rest of her speech unfinished. Huntford laughed.
"Never mind, Cousin Henrietta," he said. ”

“ About fifteen minutes later he heard Herr Vollmer's door flung violently open, and then his footsteps running furiously down the stairs. Huntford came to his own studio door and called after him, but the old man paid no heed to the voice, but ran on down the stairs and out into the street without using any of the precaution he had observed of late to see that no one was following him. Then Huntford closed his door and sat down to think about it all. ”

“ Fraülein Victoria played the hostess with a certain easy dignity, which was only lessened in Huntford's eyes when, at the end of the dinner, with her coffee she lit a cigarette. It was in those days altogether unusual for ladies to smoke cigarettes after dinner. She perhaps read something of Huntford's surprise in his looks, for she said:
"Your American ladies do not smoke cigarettes? No? Try one of these and you will see what they miss. The Austrian Ambassador—"
Herr Vollmer interrupted her with a few words in German. She laughed, and gave a puff of her cigarette. ”

“ That explained why the poor old gentleman lived so luxuriously, and why he was so in awe of his niece. She was wealthy and she was supporting him. Huntford had almost forgotten the music; now he suddenly began listening to it again. Poor old Herr Vollmer! He was playing so patiently and so beautifully in the adjoining room. He doubtless had to play when she bade him, and to cease when she told him to stop. The pathos of his servile position struck Huntford with a pang of pity. "It is a sad thing," he said, "for a man to be dependent upon another for his support." ”

“ Huntford used to breakfast and lunch at the old Budapest Bakery, where they had the best coffee and rolls in New York. He dined at a cellar restaurant on Broadway, just below Fortieth Street. It was a great resort, that cellar restaurant, where the younger artists of the day, and some of the older fellows also, used to dine. A long table was provided for the artist patrons, and anybody could sit where he pleased—only that old Bowles, the sculptor, always sat at one end, and McClafferty, the landscape-painter, at the other. ”

“ As he did so the cab drove off, and Huntford, after a moment or two of paralysis, closed the door which his companion in his sudden flight had left open.
Huntford's thoughts as he traveled up Fifth Avenue were, as may be supposed, both tumultuous and confused. He was thrilled with a not unpleasurable excitement. What did it all mean? He felt like a man in a story, and he could hardly believe that these things were really happening to him. Hardly for a moment did he entertain the thought that Herr Vollmer was a mere vulgar criminal escaping from justice ”

“ He could in no wise reconcile her perfect ignorance of the social limitations in such a common matter as the ordinary limit to impertinent curiosity with the perfect ease and precision with which she had been able to play the grand hostess at her own table. Who was she, and what was she, he wondered—and it was just at this point in his thoughts that she told him that her people did not allow her to know society. "Who are your people?" ”

“ As he re-entered the circle of the lamplight, Huntford saw that it was the little German with the black, waxed mustache turned up at the ends from whom Herr Vollmer had escaped by means of the cab.
"Ach!" said the German, " 'tis mein American friendt, after all. Vas you vaiting for Herr Yollmer or for de laty?"
Huntford looked him up and down. "I don't know what you mean," he said, and then he turned on his heel and walked away. Poor girl, were the beagles so close upon her heels as that? What could he do to help her? Nothing! He must suffer events to take their course. ”

“ The Waltons remained in Hesse-Gruenstadt for nearly two weeks. They were invited to the ball at court. They attended a dinner at the Schloss, where Huntford and Evelina Walton were the recipients of particular civility. Huntford, and this time Miss Walton also, were bidden to another lunch, and altogether their visit was a crowning and glorious success. The hotel people were so civil that they were almost obsequious, and Huntford was the hero of the hour. ”

“ Huntford," he said, "the Fraülein Victoria, my niece, has commanded me to tell you that she will be pleased to have you dine with her in the evening."
Huntford was very much surprised. "Oh! Thank you," he said. "I shall be delighted. Won't you come in?"
"Thank you, no," said Herr Vollmer. "I have matters that need my attention. I will call for you at half -past seven."
That evening the old gentleman called, as he had promised, promptly at half-past seven. "You will find a carriage at the door," he said. "If you will go down and take your seat in it, I will join you in a moment." ”

“ Old Blount, the marine-painter, occupied those rooms when Huntford first came to New York, but in the fall of '81 he moved out. Shortly afterward the apartment was taken by an elderly German, and the words "Frederick Vollmer—Heraldic Designer" appeared upon the the sign tacked upon the door.
Herr Vollmer was established in his studio for nearly two weeks before Huntford became really acquainted with him. He used to hear the old fellow sometimes going down-stairs. This was always after dark—for he never came out of his room during the daytime. ”

“ Huntford felt that he had been distinctly rebuffed.
"You must not be cross," she said. "There are things that are forbidden for me to talk about to any one. Herr Vollmer—my uncle Frederick," she continued, changing the subject—"says that your friends with whom he sometimes dines call him 'Count.' "
"Yes," said Huntford, "they do. He has rather a distinguished, aristocratic air. ”